


chicken math

by Cinnonym



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Chickens, Conversations, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Ride or Die Friendship, alternatively titled: there isn't enough hornets content in the world and i aim to fix that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnonym/pseuds/Cinnonym
Summary: "Chicken math, Bevin tells them, is a universal, inescapable law. Hollis is inclined to believe him. Even if they didn’t trust his judgement, they aren’t about to refute the big guy with a basket full of eggs."hollis trades pieces of wisdom with their crew. or, the hornets shower hollis in insight, and hollis gets mauled by a chicken: a short collection.
Relationships: Hollis & Bevin (The Adventure Zone)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	chicken math

Chicken math, Bevin tells them, is a universal, inescapable law. Hollis is inclined to believe him. Even if they didn’t trust his judgement, they aren’t about to refute the big guy with a basket full of eggs. He can play the part of the gentle giant or the rough-and-tumble biker all he wants, but Hollis knows he is not above hurling eggs. And, as the famous saying goes,  _ he who holds eggs, holds power. _

“You can’t have  _ one _ chicken. Poor li’l lady’s gonna get lonely, and that ain’t right.” 

When Hollis had entertained the idea of a home visit, this was not what they’d had in mind. Appearances mean jack and shit, and Hollis knows this fact as well as anyone else. But, Bevin has never struck them as the nurturing type. Quite the opposite, really. He’ll sling crude jokes all day long, mention how big and tough he is no less than five times per conversation, and noogie even the strongest of Hornets into submission. If overcompensation is a game, then Bevin is the champion. Never in a thousand years did they expect Bevin to lecture them on the finer points of owning chickens.

And yet, here they are, with a basket of their own lazily dangling from their fingers. Somber as they can manage, Hollis nods.  _ Don’t provoke the man with the eggs. _ “Of course not,” they say. 

“Of _course_ not. So, you get another one to keep th’first company. Problem is, it’s damn near impossible to get one on its own. So, when you're buying chickens from someone, you usually end up getting two, or three, or as many as the person wants to get rid of.” With all the tenderness of a new parent, Bevin crouches and scoops an egg from its resting place in the grass. “Wanna check the coop, Boss? Get the easy eggs.” 

Bevin has taken note of their abysmal egg-gathering skills. Is he trying to coddle their ego? Well, mission accomplished. Eyes low, they warily step over a chicken. The chicken, a lovely lady and descendant of the most fearsome of dinosaurs, ignores them. Hollis proceeds to the coop unhindered. The construct is ugly as sin – a hodgepodge of boards and sheets and nails. Looking as though a wayward breeze may knock it over, it’s a surprise any chicken feels safe enough to walk within a five foot radius of it. But, Hollis figures upon hearing a few clucks from within, chickens are not that smart. Vicious they may be, but criminal masterminds fowl are not.

They clear their throat. A question prickles at the back of their mind. Though inane as all get out, the conversation has captured their interest, and they intend to follow through on their curiosity. 

“Why don't you just keep the one, if that's all you're after?” Alternative question:  _ Why the hell do you keep a dozen of these things around?  _ Or:  _ Jesus, Bev, why don’t you skip the trouble and go to Leo’s when you need eggs?  _ Maybe Hollis is unnerved by the number of beady eyes staring them down. Or, maybe they are the only rational person in this yard. At this point, it can go either way.

“‘Cause it's  _ chicken math _ ,” he insists. “That's the whole point. What you wanted in the beginning, uh, doesn't matter. You get what you aimed for, plus more. I guess, at first, it happens ‘cause you're worried about your first chicken bein’ alone. But, it snowballs, and you overshoot by a mile, and you end up with a dozen more chickens than you intended. ‘s not like it hurts you any. Plus, they got each other.”

Reaching for an egg tucked into a corner, they snort. “Real sweet sentiment, you got there. I still cannot  _ fathom  _ how you take care of all these.” As if to emphasize their point, a chorus of clucks emanates from the coop.

Straw pokes against their fingertips. It's not until they are shoulder deep in the coop that their fingers graze a smooth surface.  _ Jackpot.  _

And then a beak digs into their hand, and that is the end of  _ that _ conversation.

**Author's Note:**

> the first out of 5(???) tentatively planned pieces.


End file.
